Welcome to the New World
by sodapop765
Summary: The prison had fallen and the group was scattered to the four winds. Was this what the world was now? Death and dying with no end in sight? Did the world have to take everything away from them? Was this the world now or was there something else? And is that something else better or worse?
1. The Fall of the Prison

The prison had fallen. The prison, his home, was gone. The fences were down, the dead were piling in, and his father was nowhere to be seen. The bus was leaving, maybe he was on the bus. Maybe he was in the prison. Maybe he was dead. Maybe Carl was dead. Maybe everyone and everything was dead.

There was a clarity to Carl's thoughts as he ran from the building that once housed his salvation. He had to survive, that he knew. He knew that he should have been sad, scared, angry, something, but he was just numb and cold on the inside. He clutched the gun in his hand, felt the one on his belt, and felt the weight of the knife strapped to his arm. He had weapons. He needed food, water, and shelter.

It was like someone poured cold water inside of him. He wanted to make himself feel something, anything, but at the same time he didn't. He needed to live. He needed to live to fight another day. Then what? Did he need to live to survive? What was the point of all this?

He walked through the woods surrounding the prison. For how long he did not know. In what direction he did not know. It didn't matter. The entire world was dead. The last good place, the last oasis in this world was gone. He should have shot the Governor when he had the chance. He should have stayed with his dad. He should have done a lot of things.

He was coming up on some houses now. Houses meant food and water. Houses meant a shelter from this mess. Houses meant he would live to fight another day. He went to the first house he saw. A big one, bigger than the one he lived in with his family before the world went to hell. A rich family must have lived there. Rich. Poor. The only thing that matter was survival.

He threw himself into the door. He was too weak to open it. He was too weak to make the shot. He was too weak for this world. He sank to his knees, his hat dipping over his eyes. How long he stayed like that he did not know. He smelled them before he heard them. It was a familiar stench now. He lifted his head and saw them shuffling. He got up and ran to live. He ran to live to fight another day.

Rick called for his son. He called and called and got no response. He ran all around the prison with Michonne at his heals searching for his son. His ribs burned, his legs ached, his head swam. He had one thing on his mind and the one thing was Carl. He needed his boy now more than ever. He had already seen the blood in his daughter's car seat. He needed to find his son or at least what was left of him.

"Rick…we've got to go…" said Michonne putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Carl! We do not leave without Carl!" said Rick, his voice drawing over the dead. Michonne expertly took their heads off with her sword.

"Rick, maybe he's on the bus with the others." Said Michonne. She needed to get away from here. She needed to get away. It was gone and they needed to get away. This world took everything good eventually. She had let herself get too complacent.

"Inside…maybe he's inside." Said Rick before taking off into the prison with a surprising amount of speed for a man who had just been shot in the leg and then beaten practically to death.

"We need to go." Said Michonne to herself before following Rick into what was once their home. Rick called his son while Michonne took care of the death he attracted. When he wasn't doing that she was looting the possessions of her former friends looking for food, water, medicine, anything they could use.

"Michonne! Michonne!" called Rick from a short ways away. They needed to go. He needed rest. This place was gone. The world took it. She went to him before the world took him away too.

"Help me…help me move him." said Rick as he made a move to drag Glenn away from the half blown out catwalk. They went deep into the prison where they could lock themselves in for the night. Michonne knew that they couldn't leave now, with Glenn like this. She couldn't let the world take him away too.

The world went by in a blur and Daryl and Beth rode away from their home. They did not know where they were going, only that they needed to get away. They headed south for no particular reason. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them had anything to say. It wasn't as if they could he heard over the roar of the engine or the rush of the wind. They rode until they came upon a group of the dead feasting on something in the road.

Beth leaned over to his ear. Her blonde hair, loose from its braid whipping behind her as they slowed down some to maneuver around the dead as they blocked part of the poorly maintained road. Though Daryl could not see it her eyes were steeled. Her face was a mask, a caricature of what it should have been.

"Stop." Said Beth. The absolution in her voice made him obey. She jumped from his bike before it totally stopped. He was tempted to tell her how dangerous that was but he was still mute from the events of the day. In her hand was a knife. In his hands was his crossbow. He walked a step behind her as she approached the dead.

Beth let out an inhuman screamed as she plunged her knife into the soft, rotting skull of what was once a man. She had red in books about people seeing red and now she was experiencing this for herself. She heard the crack and the whoosh of Daryl's arrows and crossbow. She saw the head of a particularly rotted dead practically disintegrate before her eyes. She didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore. Everything she cared about the world took away. Anything good and right the world took away. Soon the world would take her away. That didn't mean that she couldn't take some of the dead away with her.

"Beth…Beth let's go." Said Daryl, his hand on her shoulder. She was stabbing a dead one, a woman know. The dead was no longer animated but Beth still stabbed it. She cried as she did this. She cried for her father. She cried for her mother. She cried for her sister. She cried for everyone she had ever lost. When she was done crying she screamed.

Daryl could only pull her close to him. He needed her as much as she needed him. He had lost everyone. Maybe they were alive but that was a big maybe nowadays. Daryl was not the type to hold or be held but right now he needed to hold this girl to make sure that she was still alive. She was the only living thing he had left and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her.

She was screaming into his chest now. His body muffled her anguish but not so much that more of the dead weren't attracted. Everything was gone but they had to keep going. They had to survive just to keep on surviving. He pulled her to her feet and put her back on the bike. They needed shelter. They needed food. They needed water. They needed each other.

The bus. They needed to catch up to the bus. Maggie, Sasha, and Bob had managed to get away from the prison. They had managed to survive which was, in this world, a gift. For Maggie it wasn't enough. They needed to find the others, regroup, and then come back and search for survivors. They needed to come back and search for Glenn and Beth.

Maggie clung to this plan like a dying man would cling to the first source of water he could find in the desert. She went over and over and over the plan in her mind. Doing this kept her from thinking about her father. Doing this kept her from thinking about the glint of the blade as it caught the sunlight, the sickening cracking sound as it met bone, and the deep red that poured from her father's neck.

She needed to find Glenn and Beth so that she would not be an orphan in this world. She had a family. She had people and they had to still have been alive. She would not let them die. She had seen so very many people die since the beginning of this thing. She had seen even more people die since meeting the group. A sick part of her thought that she might have been better off if she had never met Rick Grimes and his band of merry men. Her family would still be alive and she would have never met Glenn. If she had never met Glenn then she wouldn't be feeling this pain that came from missing him.

Sasha knew, logically, that going back was the worst thing that they could have done. They needed to catch up to the bus and regroup with the others. The bus had food and other supplies. Not many but enough to treat Bob's wound. She could not let him die. Enough people had died. She needed to get back to the bus and then go back and search for survivors.

Bob was actually in good spirits. He had seen two groups before this die but he was not alone. He was with Sasha and Maggie and that was good. Maybe he was cursed. Three groups that he was a part of and three groups he was a survivor from. Somebody better call Guinness…or maybe Ripley if he was still alive. He always liked those books. Maybe he was cursed or maybe this was just how the world was now. He didn't care what happened now, he only cared that he wasn't alone.

Later on Tyreese would reflect upon this day, this day when everything went wrong. No, he would reflect upon this world. He would reflect upon this world where old men got their heads chopped up, little girls shot people in the head, and good women were burned to death. However, there was no time for reflection now. He had to keep these girls alive now.

Judith stirred in his arms. He felt sympathy for her. For Judith this was the world and she was an orphan in it. Anything that this little baby had would be taken from her. He looked over at Lizzie and Mika. Mika was crying and Lizzie was telling her to be strong. What kind of a world was this where little girls and babies had to be strong?

He held Judith closer. She was small, fragile, too small and fragile for this world. So were the girls. He had to protect them. He wasn't just surviving just to survive. No, he was surviving so that they would survive. He would do right by them like he should have done by Sasha. He held in tears. He had to be strong. He had a job to do.

Lizzie knew that they would all come back. They would change but they would come back. Death was when something didn't move, think, or breath. The walkers moved, thought, and judging by the moaning they must have been breathing somehow. They attacked people but maybe they just did that because they were scared or hungry or something else altogether that she couldn't comprehend.

Lizzie had gone to church with her family before all of this. She knew that God worked in mysterious ways and he liked to test people. This new world must have been a test. The dead getting up and walking around was a miracle. That was the only explanation. She could sometimes make miracles happen to. Nobody believed her. Nobody ever listened to her.

Mika wanted Carol. Carol would protect them. Carol would take care of them. Carol always knew what to do. Everyone was gone and she had no idea where they went. Tyreese said that they were going someplace safe and would eventually find the others. Mika didn't believe that one bit.

The world took everything and everyone away. She wished so hard, so very hard for everything to go back to the way it was. She prayed silently to God as she cried for the world to be normal again. If she closed her eyes than maybe she'd be back home in front of the TV or playing in the yard or even in school doing boring school stuff.

She swore that if everything went back to normal right then and there she would never ever do anything wrong again. She'd never complain about anything or fight with anyone ever again. She'd get straight A's and keep her room clean and do all her chores and anything else if she could have the world back to the way it was supposed to be. She could hope and pray all she wanted but she knew, deep down she knew, that it could never be. All she could do beyond hoping and praying was keeping quiet and looking at the flowers.

Tara knew she deserved to die for what she did. She had trusted Brian, they all had, and look where that had gotten them. Everyone she had ever known and loved was gone. There was nothing left for her now. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go.

She was a monster. She wasn't worth the air she was breathing. She locked herself in a cage like the monster she was. She didn't even deserve to turn. No, she'd wait it out in this cage surrounded by the disaster she was a part of. Wait, she'd turn no matter what, wouldn't she? Either the dead got her or dehydration would. The dehydration would come before the starvation. Whatever. Why should she carry on?

She felt the weight of the gun in her hand. Full clip. She could shoot her way out and then run away to fight another day. What would that accomplish. People were dead. That old man was dead. Her family was dead. She held the gun in her hand. Maybe she was dead too. Maybe she should just empty the clip into her head.

Loud screaming got her attention. That man, the one that Brian said was bad, was calling for someone. He was with that sword woman. They were looking for someone named Carl. One more disaster she could add to her generous supply. She leaned her head against the concrete behind her and let sleep overtake her. Maybe when she opened her eyes this would all have been a bad dream…and maybe doves would fly out of her ass.

It was dark out now. Carl was out of bullets and out of luck. He had managed to break into a house and scavenge some food but had been forced out when an entire family of walkers was found hiding behind a door. He shot them all but the noise attracted more and more of them. He used his last bullet taking down the one that was currently on top of him.

"Dad…Dad I need you." Pleaded Carl softly as he tried to wiggle his way out from under the rotting corpse that was on top of him. Maggots fell from its head and onto Carl's face. He struggled to keep his food down. He needed the valuable calories if he wanted to survive.

He had managed to half free himself from the walked on top of him. In his stupidity he had tripped over an old garden hose and fallen onto his back. His hat lay on behind him in the grass. He was half out from under the walked now but he still did not have used of his legs. Another walked came to him and tripped over the walked that had Carl pinned down.

After much struggle he had managed to free the knife from his side and plunge it into the new walker's head. Now he was totally and completely pinned. More walkers were shuffling over. His arms and legs were pinned. His body was crushed. It was over.

"Just do it…" said Carl. It might not have been so bad. He'd be with Mom and Dad and Judith and Shane and T-Dog and Andrea and Dale and Sophia and Hershel and everyone else he had lost. They'd all be together in heaven. Yes…than would be nice.

The first bite was agony. Fire ran from the bite in his shoulder through to the rest of his body. It hurt, it hurt so much. It didn't matter, he'd be with them soon. After all, he had survived this long and for what? To keep on fighting and surviving?

Another walker came to him. This one looked at him…and kept on looking. It didn't move. It almost seemed like it was thinking. It had a patchwork of what looked like black stiches along its body. In his delirium Carl thought he must have been losing it, especially when the stitched walker began to gesture to something behind it.

"What'd you find, Fido?" said a voice. A girl's voice. In his delirium Carl thought back to Marry Poppins. Chim Chimminy, Chim Chimminy…

"Man alive, that man's still alive!" called that same voice

"Toffee, no jokes. You're not funny." Said a different voice, a boy's voice.

"Wasn't trying to be! Now, help!" said the girl. Carl closed his eyes. He was hallucinating girls. Maybe that was heaven. Maybe heaven was made up on girls with funny accents…

"Fine, but I'm not touching them." said the other voice with a sniff of disdain. Carl saw a red light through his eyelids before the weight on top of him was removed.

"Claudine, get the sterile bandages ready while I clean out his blood." The words sounded far away now and had an almost echo like quality to them. He eyelids were pushed opened and then stayed there by some invisible force. A blonde girl about his age leaned over and creamed in his face.

"You are experiencing trauma! My name is Toffee Pettigrew! I'm a research alchemist/healer!" there was a snort from behind her.

"Shut up Claudine! You want to do this?!" said Toffee loudly. Carl tried to tell her to shut up and let him go in piece but his brain had forgotten how to make words.

"Oh, right…I'm going to clean you your blood now so you don't die! This is a syringe! It's full of some good things that will help you!" said Toffee. Carl only understood that this girl was trying to save him. Unless she was going to amputate his entire shoulder nothing could have him.

"This is going to hurt!" said Toffee before she plunged the needle into him. She pushed down on the top and watched that miracle of modern healing work it's wonders on him. He was a survivor and he was all alone. If he passed the mental evaluation she'd take him on to serve in her house. It was rather lonely with only Fido and whichever member of her family, currently cousin Claudine, decided to lend her their services.

"He's been bitten, I think that pain trumps anything he's going to feel from that little needle prick." Said Claudine as she watched that wonderful elixir, courtesy of the Palace of Mercy, flow into the boy. He was around her age, actually a little younger closer to Toffee's age. Toffee would probably take him. Not many people his age around and if there were they were never alone.

"Toffee, bandage him while I set up a perimeter." Said Toffee as she watched the boy's color improve. Carl felt like…well he felt good. All of the pain in his body was flushing away. The world was coming in clearer and noises were sharper. He opened his mouth to see if his brain had remembered how to make worlds.

"Who…Who're you…" said Carl, control of his body coming back to him.

"Huh? Oh, you're all alive and stuff, right. I'm Claudine Estelle DeLioncourte-Pettigrew-Potter. Call me Claudine or Misses Potter or whatever, I don't care just don't stare. The other girl is Toffee Apple Pettigrew, don't laugh at the name she saved your life. You are?" asked the girl, the smooth silk of her black dress caressing him as she bandaged his wound.

"C-Carl…Grimes." Said Carl trying to sit up. A surprisingly strong hand pushed him down to the ground.

"Let the elixir do its work. Toffee's setting up a perimeter so I guess it's up to me to, you know, put you at ease and whatnot. Well, Carl Grimes, you have just been saved by the Alchemist Toffee Pettigrew so that makes you hers unless she doesn't want you. We weren't really looking for survivors this deep into the Wild Zone, just supplies and spare parts from the dead so we really aren't equipped to do what needs to be done. Once you're recovered we'll take you processing where you'll get your ident card, mental health score, fertility score, any medical treatment you need, and your name and blood will be added to the survivor roster. After that you'll probably stay with Toffee and if not you'll be assigned to an agro-plantation or a mill. Any question?" said Claudine as she finished a well-rehearsed speech.

"Who are you?" asked Carl as he took in the girl in front of him. Brown curly hair fell across her face, a black dress and black gloves covered her, and a large black hat was placed next to his. Her skin was a sickly pale looking color with some visible veins and her lips had cuts on them most likely from the teeth that seemed too big for her mouth.

"Toffee! Come here and explain! I think I did it wrong!" said Claudine loudly. Carl could hear the moans of the dead. They were in front of him, seemingly held back by some sort of invisible line. The blond girl was there too, checking something on the stitched walker. Her dress was pink and long. The other girl's dress was black and long. Both dresses looked like something from a history book. Carl decided that either they were crazy or he was crazy or it was some kind of miracle and he shouldn't question it. The other girl rushed over to him. She had a stick in her hand. To small and delicate to stab anything with.

"Hello, my name is Toffee and this is Claudine and that over there is Fido. We saved your life. We're going to wait here with you until the elixir does its job. After that we're going to take you to a big building run by my government to help survivors like you. You'll be given food, water, shelter, and some tests to make sure that you can rejoin society. If you pass all of those I'll be taking you in so you can help me. I live in a very nice house with land for farming and a greenhouse with all sorts of things you can eat. I assure you that you will be well taken care of. Do you consent to my helping you?" said Toffee

"Yes." Said Carl not sure what was going on. Government? Tests? Society? What was she on about? What was with that walker? Why was he feeling better? These girls were about his age, the one in black was a little older, and they had saved him with some kind of medicine. He decided that it was best to at least see what these people were about.

"Marvelous, simply marvelous. Now, while we wait? Who's for cake?" said Toffee. Before Carl could ask her what she meant she pulled a small cake from the blue beaded bag at her side, much too small to hold anything at all let alone an entire cake with a plate under it, and then tapped it with her stick. It got to normal size. Carl stared and stared and stared some more before revising his decision. No, this must have been heaven. He stared and stared at them both.

"Oh! Now I remember what I had forgotten to say! I'm a witch and so is Claudine."


	2. New Day

The night came upon Rick, Michonne, and Glenn like a dark curtain. The night was silent except for the moans of the walkers. How had they come to this? Hiding in their very home, this place which had been a sanctuary from all that was wrong with the world? Rick closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his hair rubbing against the cool wall behind him.

"It can be like this all the time." said Rick softly. Hershel meant that it could have been good all the time. They could live without worries all the time. They would have food, water, and shelter all the time.

"It is." Said Michonne, her sword drawn across her body. This was the only thing that stayed. Rick would go, Glenn would go, everyone would go. Her sword would stay. She had let herself get too complacent, too attached. It came back to bite her.

"Why?" asked Rick, his voice cracking. Michonne passed him a bottle of water. He drank it down greedily. They would have to conserve water again. They would have to ration food.

"Because it is what it is." Said Michonne. Glenn stirred in his bed. Rick shook his head and then laid himself down completely.

"Why? Why is this what it is now?" said Rick. He was tearing up now. Whether from the pain, the trauma, or simply the situation they were trapped in or even a combination of the three. It hurt. Everything hurt.

"Because it just is, Rick." Said Michonne from her spot on the floor. She should never have given up looking for the Governor. She should never have let herself become complacent. This was all her fault.

"Why?" Rick croaked out again. Michonne jumped to her feet, her sword clattering against the ground. The sound was hollow.

"Because it is, Rick! It just is!" screamed Michonne before she put her head in her hands. It was what it was. This was the life they lived. There was no perfect place, there was no safe place. There was no home, just a series of stops along the way to a painful and agonizing death.

"It's not…it's not…" said Glenn, his voice hoarse. Michonne composed herself immediately and grabbed the bottle of water. Glenn needed water. Rick needed water. She needed nothing.

"Here, don't try to talk." Said Michonne as she put the bottle to his lips. Glenn sat up a little and drank as greedily as Rick had.

"Mag…Maggie? Where's…where's Maggie?" said Glenn when he was done with the water. Michonne didn't know how to answer that one. Maggie was most likely dead if she wasn't on the bus. The people on the bus might have been dead.

"…On the bus with the others. They got out." Said Michonne. He needed hope, hope would keep him going. Keep him going until his time.

"Don't know what happened to them after, they might be alright." Said Rick, his breathing still labored. If Maggie was alright then Carl might be alright.

"We…we need to go, go now. We need to go." Said Glenn trying to get up. Michonne pushed him back down to the bed.

"No, it's too dark out right now. We go out in the night we'll be ripped apart. Besides, you and Rick need to rest." Said Michonne, her voice with tone of finality to it. They would go when the sun was up. They would go when they were better. They would go and find another stop along the way.

Looking back in later years Tyreese would be sure that the first night out was the worst. They had no shelter, no cover, no food, not water, and nothing to sooth Judith's crying. What little food and water they had managed to find on the road was given to Judith to attempt to sooth her. her cries would attract the dead and then they would be the dead.

The night came in and brought with it the usual dangers. The dead but also the living stalked the darkness. The decreased visibility increased the dangers that they faced. Tyreese couldn't wait for dawn to break.

"Shh….shh…" said Tyreese as Judith stirred once again. He had some berries they picked earlier, not nearly enough to keep even a mouse alive. It would go to Judith. She was the youngest and the most vulnerable.

"Keep her quiet! They're gonna come because of her!" whispered Lizzie. She came up to Tyreese and took Judith into her arms. She bounced Judith up and down in an attempt to quiet her fussing. Mika was, thankfully, asleep. She couldn't handle two upset people.

They had set up a perimeter around their campsite. It was a simple thing, some string with cans attached to it. It was a far cry from the fences they used to hide behind. It would do its job and alert them to the danger all around. The cans began to clatter and Tyreese grabbed his hammer. He silently got to his feet and did his duty to the group.

"Stop it, Judith." Whispered Lizzie. She put her hand over Judith's mouth to silence her. Judith began to struggle in her arms. Maybe it would be better this way. Besides, she'd come back. She'd be a little different but she'd come back.

"Lizzie…Lizzie I'll take her." said Tyreese pulling Judith from Lizzie's arms. He held her close and rocked her until she fell asleep. Lizzie was awake when he closed his eyes that night and awake when he opened them in the morning.

"Where are we going now?" asked Lizzie without missing a beat. She had slept little that night. She needed her eyes to be opened to the world around her. She needed to see all the dangers tat would befall them.

"I don't know, I guess we should find some food and water." Said Tyreese gently. He didn't like the look of her. She had obviously been through a lot, more than anybody should have gone through. She needed to rest, to close her eyes, to cry if she needed to. He didn't know, he wasn't a therapist.

"Good idea, I'll wake Mika." Said Lizzie. She walked over to her little sister and began to shake her with a little more force than was necessary.

"Mika, wake up!" Said Lizzie. Mika woke up with a start and began to scramble away. She didn't know what was happening as she was woken up but she calmed down once she realized where she was.

"C'mon, we've gotta go." Said Lizzie pulling her sister to her feet. They had to keep going forward. They had to be strong, Carol would have wanted that.

The sun was beating down on Tara's head. They sounds of the dead were just as strong that morning as they had been that night. Her clip was still full. She was still alive. For how long she did not know. Maybe she should go on, keep going and going and going. Maybe she could go back to her house…no, she could never go back. Why did she even leave?

"We need to find a vehicle. Check them all and see if one's good to take." Said Rick, his voice carrying across the yard over to Tara. He, Glenn, and Michonne wore riot gear. To Tara it gave them an almost alien appearance.

They fought their way through the dead. Michonne's sword took off head after head as she led the charge. She and the sword were almost acting as one. It was as if the sword was merely an extension of her arm. To Tara the was a beauty in the way the sword woman took care of the dead.

Glenn and Rick followed close behind her. Glenn half supported Rick as they fought their way through the throngs of the dead. Glenn threw a tear gas canister across the yard in the hopes that the dad would follow it. Some did but some stayed for the living people, a feast if there ever was one.

Eventually they fought their way through the dead, a trail of bodies behind them marking their path like macabre breadcrumbs. They went to the Governors vehicles and found them all to be out of fuel, having been left running all night. The one's that weren't out of fuel were too badly shot up to be of any use. For the time being it seemed that they were ruffing it.

Michonne had found two walkers, the Governors people, and decided to use them as camouflage. They would be tied to her always now, reminders of what she did and didn't do. What she could have done but didn't. Somehow it always came back to this, didn't it? There she was, a monster among the monsters. While Rick and Glenn scavenged the cars for anything of use she stalked the yard like a predator circling her prey. She came upon the severed head of Hershel in the grass. She plunged her sword into it without a thought. She gave him mercy.

It was Glenn that noticed Tara first. Well, he noticed the dead clustered around Tara. He didn't know it was her, if he had he wasn't sure he would have gone to save her. As far as he knew now it was a living person there and they needed help. With a long piece of jagged metal he set off for the cluster of the dead. The stench was nearly overpowering.

Tara thought the man was coming to finish her off. She decided to let him. She had taken everything from these people. Innocent men, women, and children would all have been fine if she had never listened to Brian. She didn't say a word as the man dealt with the dead. Soon she would join them. If Tara was him she would put a bullet through the body, not the head. Tara deserved to turn, to join the monsters in the prison yard.

Glenn dealt with the dead as best as he could in his condition. He made short work of them before making his way into the cage to talk with the woman within. He didn't recognize her which mean that there was a good chance that she was a part of the Governor's army. He didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand she was with the Governor but on the other hand she was still a human being who needed help.

She didn't react to him. He wondered if she was hurt. He wondered if she had been bitten. She sat there like a lump on a log. Her head was in her hands, there was a gun sitting next to her. He snatched it up in case she tried anything. He was willing to help her but he wasn't sure if he could trust her.

"You have a full clip." Said Glenn to the unresponsive woman. He tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up at him suddenly. Her face was expressionless and her eyes were dead.

"I said that you have a full clip, did you even fire a shot?" asked Glenn. He had to get moving, the dead were starting to notice him again. He looked over and saw Michonne and Rick coming over to him.

Tara looked over the man and shook her head no. What was he waiting for? Why was he dragging this out?

"What's going on here?" asked Rick limping over to them. Michonne followed with two jawless and armless walkers in tow.

"I-I found her." said Glenn motioning towards the woman.

"Was she a part of this?" asked Rick. Tara looked at him and nodded.

"Did you see any of our people get out? Did you see my son get out?" asked Rick, his voice with a hard edge. When the woman didn't respond he shook the cage. Michonne decided that they needed more walkers. Two sufficed when it was just her and Andrea but more walkers meant more cover. They couldn't afford to get into another altercation with the dead at this time.

"All I saw was my sister in that field." Said Tara softly. Rick made and angry sound, almost animalistic, and shook the cage.

"Rick! That's not helping!" Said Glenn. He hated this woman and he didn't even know her. That was an irrational part of him that he did not like to acknowledge. The rational part of him knew that there was strength in numbers. They needed her almost as much as she needed them.

"She wasn't supposed to be there…she wasn't supposed to be there…what was she doing there? This wasn't supposed to happen…" said Tara more to herself than the people around her. Her sister was dead. Her girlfriend was dead. Her father was dead. Her niece was dead. She was dead…not yet but she would be.

"Leave her here." Said Rick. He remembered her now, ponytails. She had been with the Governor. She had been a part of this. It was her fault that his son was gone, his daughter was dead, and everyone else either dead or scattered God knows where.

"We need her." said Glenn. Michonne came up to them with more walkers on leashes like macabre pets. If they were going to have long debates they might as well have some cover.

"No we do not." Said Rick swaying on his feet. She was the last thing they needed. She could rot here in the mess she created for all he cared.

"We can't just let her die. Besides, we need as many people as we can get. You need to heal and I'm just getting over being sick." Said Glenn. The irrational part of him, the part made for this world agree with Rick but he couldn't listen to that part.

"I don't think she knew what she was getting into." Said Michonne suddenly from behind them. Rick scoffed and didn't turn around. Michonne decided to press on.

"I saw how he tricked Andrea…I know how he works. He could make you believe the sky was orange and rocks grew on trees. We need more people…and I don't see why anyone else should have to die here." Said Michonne. She was sick of death. She wanted just one day without it. If they started leaving living people out here to die, people who obviously didn't know what they were getting into, then they were becoming just like the monsters around them.

"Fine." Said Rick knowing he was outvoted. At this point he just wanted to find his son. He saw the blood on Judith's car seat but didn't see Carl, the body of, or even his hat. He figured that if Carl was alive he would have taken the hat with him.

"C'mon." said Glenn pulling Tara up by her arm. She went silently with him. She didn't fight or resist him when he dragged her away from the cage. She went with them across the field and to the main road. They followed it for who knew how long, encountering walkers that paid them no mind along the way. Eventually they were stopped by a soldier named Abraham, a woman named Rosita, and a strange man with a mullet offering them hope for the future. They were headed down the same road as this new group so they decided to bum a ride. This was the way that the bus was supposed to take after all.

Eventually they came upon that bus. It was surrounded by the corpses of their former friends. Glenn, Michonne, and Rick demanded that Abraham stop the vehicle. He refused to listen until Glenn managed to break the window. They searched every corpse there. None of them were Carl, Beth, or Maggie. It was there that they bid Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene goodbye. They wanted to hope for the cure but they knew that they needed to find those that they had lost. Rick would find his son before it was too late. It would not be Sophia all over again.

Carol came upon the ruins of the prison after seeing the smoke in the distance. She was too late to help. The entire place was completely deserted except for the throngs of the dead. She stalked along the yard looking for clues as to where they had gone. In the mud she saw small child sized footprints. She followed them into the woods. It was there that she put the tracking skills Daryl taught her to good use.

Was Daryl even still alive? The thought of him being dead was almost incomprehensible to her. He was like a rock, sturdy and permanent. He was a strong man, a patient man, a resourceful man, and possibly the most valued member of the group after Hershel. Daryl fed them when they were hungry and protected them when there was trouble. He was made for this world. Where was he now? In the yard she had seen motorcycle tracks. She hoped that was him. She hoped he had gotten out.

She only followed the child sized footprints because a child would need her more. This world was cruelest to those who were young. This world had taken Sophia from her; it would not take any more children. Not on her watch. She thought back to Lizzie and Mika. Where were they now? Had she failed in protecting them? Had Rick failed?

She followed the footprints to a makeshift campsite. From here they went off into the forest again. She saw a few empty cans, the remains of a small fire, and makeshift sleeping areas on the ground. There, stuck to a bush was a familiar looking piece of cloth. It belonged to Mika's tights. A wave of joy surged through Carol. She was close. She just hoped that it wasn't too late.

Carl Grimes' world view was once again shaken at its foundations. Witches…real witches… not devil worshippers, they made that fact very clear. They had taken the time to explain to him how there was an entity called Truth who created all that is, was, and ever would be. It guarded some kind of gate at the junction of existence or something…the point was that they weren't devil worshippers.

They could perform miracles. They assured Carl that these were simple spells, child's play really, but he was amazed. He kept them up long into the night with requests that they do the magic. The could make objects float, start fires with a word, teleport themselves, fix things with a wave of their wands, and even kill things with a flash of green light.

Actually that last one was scary. Also it didn't work on walkers or things without souls. Souls were real. Witches were real. The dead were getting up and walking around. Sometimes Carl could have sworn he was living in a dream. Oh, and dragons were real too. There were a few dragon farms in what used to be North Carolina. Dragon skin, blood, and bones were big business…

In less than twenty-four hours he had lost his home, lost his father and sister, been bitten, had his bite cured, and learned that magic was real…and dragons…and vampires…and something called a fey which he was never, ever, to make a deal with…

Carl decided to just take it as it was. Dead people were getting up and walking around. If he could accept that he could accept anything. He had to accept this, what else could he do? He had seen incontrovertible proof of the existence of people with God like powers. Hell, he had kept them up half the night with questions and demands of demonstrations. It was morning now and they were going to a big building where he would be processed and made into a member of society. Anything would be better than carrying on just to survive.

"Ok, I think the stocking takes us home and the glove takes us to the processing building." Said Toffee and she eyed the objects in question. They lay innocently on the ground waiting to be used.

"How did you forget which portkey was which?" asked Claudine. Even though she was wearing those thick sunglasses and had the vale coming down from her hat obscuring most of her face Toffee knew she was glaring.

Carl stared at both objects on the ground. These things were going to teleport him miles and miles away in the blink of an eye. He wanted so desperately to know how. He had been given a lesson in magical theory the previous night but it had gone over his head. He managed to comprehend that it was not devil worship, there was laws and limits, and something called human transmuted was forbidden. That last tidbit had evolved into a story about a kid missing an arm and a leg and his little brother that had gotten stuck in a suit of armor or something. Toffee talked very, very fast sometimes.

"Well, usually they just give me different colored buttons…you know I only mostly just know alchemy and healing…" said Toffee with the hangdog expression only a Pettigrew could make.

"I guess we'll just have to pick one up at random. We can floo there from you're house, can't we?" asked Claudine backing under the hot sun. She wanted so desperately to cast a cooling charm but she also didn't want to mess up the synergy she had going on with the ones she had on her clothes already.

"Floo?" asked Carl. Toffee turned to him, a delighted look on her face. Claudine rolled her eyes. Toffee just liked having an adoring fan. Eventually Toffee would get sick of muggles…Claudine knew she was.

"Oh right, you don't know. That's just fast travel through the fire place. It's a bit like this except you can only go to fireplaces in the network and they have to be opened and you have to buy floo powder-" started Toffee before Claudine interrupted her

"Or make it yourself. It's not like the Palace of Plenty has agents all the way out here." Said Claudine

"Pay no mind to the half breed hiding from the sun, she can get her mum as cross as she wants, I don't care." said Toffee with a hard look. Honestly! Claudine was supposed to have high breeding and whatnot but here she was interrupting Carl's introduction into the wizarding world.

"Half breed…" said Carl. Toffee was talking again, waxing poetic about the wonders of the floo network and its drawbacks. You couldn't carry a lot through it, it got soot everywhere, and you could have people bothering you at all hours of the day and night now thanks to the worldwide floo hookups. Not that she minded talking to her parents or siblings.

This was starting to go into a discussion about her various siblings. She had just started into a story about an older sister named Priscilla Meadow Pettigrew-Black, hyphenated names were very important Toffee said, trapped in a loveless marriage with a husband who decided to run away and live in a kingdom of ice and snow. She was interrupted by Claudine clearing her throat. Carl didn't really want Toffee to stop, that kingdom of ice and snow sounded interesting.

"I don't know about you lot but I'm grabbing the glove and going wherever it takes me. You two can discuss the general oddness of Timothy Black without me." Said Claudine. In all her and Toffee's travels through the wild zone they had never saved a muggle before. Just their luck that the first time they go so far in they find one who just loves to listen to the sound of Toffee Pettigrew's voice.

Claudine was bored of muggles and just wanted to go back to the work of magic where she didn't have to be out here in the danger talking to someone who had lost everything. Losing everything was difficult for Claudine to comprehend. She had lost her world, yes, but her mum and brother were still alive. Her aunt was still alive. Her husband Pietro was still alive…and so was his father, unfortunately. Even all of her cousins were still alive. She didn't like acknowledging how little she had suffered.

"Fine, we'll talk about Timmy later. Merlin to I have stories…" said Toffee trailing off.  
She looked over at Carl. He may have been all smelly and dirty, he may have had funny haircut, and he may have been a muggle but he cared what she had to say. He listened. That was lovely.

"Toffee." Said Claudine using her big sister/ stern mum tone. She was three years older than Toffee, she should have had more of a say in what was happening. Why did they have to change the age of reason from seventeen to thirteen? Oh yeah, the whole dead people getting up and walking around thing…

"Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Don't get your pantalets in a twist." Said Toffee with a sniff of disdain. She got that stitched up walker and they all circled around a silk stocking. On three everyone grabbed it, even the walker.

After grabbing it Carl felt like he was being pulled through the world by his navel. He closed his eyes like Toffee said and didn't see the world spinning by him. He felt his feet plant themselves on the ground and found himself in an empty concrete room. The wall declared this to be a floo terminal.

"You owe me a pumpkin juice." Said Claudine getting her land legs back. She always hated all forms of fast travel. She put a hand to her stomach. Number five hated fast travel too.

"We never bet." Said Toffee checking over Fido. Carl saw her pull a needle and thread from her bottomless bag and get to work reattaching the walker's hand that had come loose. The walker made eye contact with him and he turned away.

"Surely you owe me for something. We'll figure it out later." said Claudine adjusting her hat. She stole a glance at Carl. He seemed impressed by the journey…or maybe just the floo terminal. Who knew, muggles were strange.

"Oh, hush up. Come along Carl, let's get you dealt with." Said Toffee grabbing his hand. She had taken off her ruff, thick gloves. Her fingers had ink stains on them. Her hand was much more calloused than Beth's hand.

"Well, get a move on." Said Toffee to Carl. He started walking down a hallway. There was moving pictures on the walls. At first Carl thought that they were TV screens but upon closer inspection they were paintings. They were all mostly of the same four girls.

"So you're an art lover?" asked Toffee giving Fido's leash a hard tug. Stupid lollygagging thing. It needed a new brain, most likely.

"They pictures are…moving." Said Carl finishing weakly. Claudine clicked her tongue. If anything this muggle was at least amusing.

"They're enchanted." Said Claudine as if she was talking to a particularly dull little child. Toffee maneuvered Fido so that he brushed up against Claudine. No matter how clean she assured Claudine he was a corpse was still a corpse.

"Pay her no mind. The pictures tell the story of our country after the old government fell and the Black family took over. See that's Galatea, she's the queen now and the girl next to her is Persephone, her sister and Claudine's mum. The girl in the pink is my big sister Portia and the bushy haired girl is her partner Hermione." Said Toffee. A group of shocked looking survivors was led down the hall and the group made way. Before Carl could ask any of the questions on his mind a woman in a long white dress, kind of like a Gone with the Wind look, stopped and spoke to Toffee in low tones.

"I shall have you know that I am Toffee Pettigrew, the Patchwork Alchemist, daughter of the house of Pettigrew, and younger sister to Portia Lillian Pettigrew-Potter! I can show up unannounced wherever I please with as many dead things as I want to! And he's not a thing he's a Fido and my greatest work! Now please let us pass so that I may begin processing this survivor I found." Said Toffee loudly. Previously unseen doors hidden behind the paintings opened and people dressed like Toffee and Claudine poked their heads out to see what the commotion was about.

"It's that way, ma'am." Said the woman pointing down another hallway. Toffee wasted no time dragging her band of merry men down the hallway; the entire time griping about the incompetence of colonial witches.

Carl followed her and kept his head down, grateful for his hat. He was unused to the glow of overhead lights, the smell of cleanliness, and just the entire newness of the situation. He was surrounded by strangers, a walker at his side, and his dad nowhere near him. He didn't dare touch the walls or the floors for fear of dirtying them. He had never been self-conscious of the filth on him before. He found himself passing other groups of people being led into different rooms. They looked just as shocked as he imagined he did.

It dawned on him that he had no idea where he was. By the way that Toffee has explained it he could have been anywhere in the world. He had gone miles and miles and miles away with a perfect stranger. Still, it's not like he had anyone to go back to or anywhere to be. It was better in here, wherever here was, than out there with the walkers everywhere.

Toffee was chattering on about something to Claudine who still sounded permanently disinterested. What was up with her? What was her story? What was a half breed? What, exactly, was her problem? Toffee was going on and on about some plan she had for her land now that she had help. He was expected to stay with her. He didn't know how to feel about that. It beat being out in the world. Still, how long would that last before it was taken from him.

"Alright, you just do your best and give the least crazy answers! We'll see you in a bit!" said Toffee pushing him into a room before taking off with Claudine and Fido. From what he had heard she was going to go and help treat bits or something.

"Please, have a seat." Said an older woman with that same accent that Toffee had. Well, it actually sounded closer to Claudine's. Carl decided to sit across from the woman. The nameplate on her desk said that she was a mind healer. Was that like a psychologist?

She asked him questions and he answered them in the least crazy way he could. He said that he had killed in self-defense, the dead weren't people, and he really missed the world before it went to hell. He told her about how his mother died in childbirth, omitting how he had to put her down, how his sister was now most likely dead, and how his father survived for two months without food or water before most likely dying when the Governor attacked the prison. She seemed very interested in how his dad could have possibly survived.

Hundreds of miles away and thousands of feet above the ground Galatea Black got the message she had been praying for. For years she had been searching and she found one. An asymptotic carrier.


	3. Fill me with your words

"_Celebrate the World's Rebirth-Let it Grow!"_

"_Don't Bury the Dead, First Break the Head!"_

"_The Black Family Will See Us Through!"_

"_All is well, carry on."_

"_Long Live Queen Black!"_

Carl looked around at the posters on the wall. They're bright colors and cheery moving patterns contrasted with the grey concrete of the wall. A large map hung across from him, a star over Washing D.C. proclaimed that he was there. From Georgia to Washington D.C. in an instant. He still felt sick from the journey and his heart still ached for all who he had lost. He glanced at the poster on the wall next to the water tank. Yes, he would carry on. Underneath that poster was the older girl, Claudine, reading a book in a langue he could not understand. It looked a little like English, though.

"Beowulf Kills the Sea Monster." Said Claudine looking up, her eyes meeting his through her black veil. She did not yet know if she liked this boy. He had been found mentally sound and of sufficient intelligence to rejoin society, so there was that, but he was also someone completely alien to her.

"Huh?" asked Carl suddenly. There were other survivors there but they paid him no mind. They were curled up into themselves or with others, bubbles of both grief at what the world had become and amazement of the wizards. An unusual combination if there ever was one.

"The book I'm reading is called Beowulf Kills the Sea Monster. It part of a long, long, long series. I finally have time to read them all…what with all that's happened." Said Claudine. She spoke to him in an effort to be polite; she was raised to be a lady after all.

"Yeah…there's lots of time for that stuff now." Said Carl leaning back into the hard wooden chair. Above him a light buzzed and gave off an unusual warmth. It made him look almost as sickly as Claudine did under all that.

"Not for everyone. The work of society can never cease." Said Claudine in a mocking voice. Carl didn't know it but she was imitating her mother.

"I guess I know what you mean, my dad is…was…our leader." Said Carl. Thoughts of his father brought a sharp pain from somewhere deep inside of him. He looked at the large poster of the black haired woman with the jade green dress. Her blue eyes and almost non-expression seemed to bore into him. The caption underneath her picture implored him to put the empire before himself.

"My mother is pretty high ranking, me and my husband not so much." Said Claudine idly flipping past yet another illustration of the great hero himself. She should have listened to Pie, this was dull and repetitive…much like the world was now.

"You have a husband?" asked Carl. That might have been mentioned at some point but Toffee had told him so very much it all started to run together. He mostly remembered the parts with magic like her cousin that lived in his kingdom of ice and snow or her brother who was married to something called a fey, or was she half fey…the point was that it was a drama with many characters.

"Yeah, Pietro, we call him Pie…" said Claudine, a small smile gracing her face. It was not lost on Carl, he could hear it in her voice.

"Is he-" started Carl before Claudine cut him off before he could become alien to her once again. He had lost everyone, she had lost no one.

"He lives in Savannah near my cousin Celeste's family on our agro-plantation." Said Claudine getting back to her book. Carl wanted to ask her why she was away from him. He wanted to know why she seemed to pissed off before. He wanted to know if she had any kids, if she had lost anyone. He wanted to take her grief and fill himself with it in order to displace his own. Toffee wasn't there to displace his grief with her nonstop talking.

Carl resumed waiting when it looked like she didn't want to talk anymore. There were some books on a wooden shelf near a woman who was rocking a child. She looked like she didn't want to be disturbed. She was tall with dark hair, like his mom. He got up partially to get a book and partially out of desire to see the child she was holding. He went over to the bookshelf and not so subtly turned his head to see the child. It was a little blonde girl in yards of white fabric and lace. The woman looked up and glared. She looked nothing like his mother. He pulled a random book off the shelf and walked back to his seat.

"_A General Guide to Dragons, Volume 1." _Thought Carl as he read the title. This book had no picture on the cover, just hard leather. He opened to the first page and there was a full color illustration of a green dragon with a massive wingspan. He poured over this book, the world of magic once again taking him away from his grief.

He didn't know how long he was lost in the world of dragons. He wanted to pour every fact, every morsel of information into his head. He griped that book so hard his knuckles turned white. He was irrationally worried that if he didn't read as much as he could, if he couldn't purge every angry, grief filled thought from his mind this new, magical world would disappear in a puff of smoke as if it was never there. He was so engrossed in his book that he didn't hear his name being called. It was Claudine who got his attention.

She now knew something knew about this Carl Grimes person; he really liked dragons. She thought, idly, that he would have been happier working on a dragon farm instead of sequestered in the middle of nowhere with Toffee and that rotting corpse that made her career. She also thought that, for a muggle, he was certainly calm. These other muggle's looked quite mad or catatonic. This boy went immediately to better himself. He must have been of the American aristocracy.

His name was being called; he was ready for his full body check-up. Carl was still engrossed in the book. Claudine was getting annoyed. She gave her arm a jerk and sent her wand down into her hand and sent a silent expelliarmus his way. The book almost flew from his hands but reflexes honed from surviving held onto the book like a wizard and his wand. Claudine was silently impressed.

"They need you." Said Claudine nonchalantly. Carl turned beet red. How could he be so unaware of his surroundings. The warmth of the room, the clean water in the tank, the food on the table, even the soft music coming from that machine they called a wireless lulled him into a stupor. He had to be on guard at all times or else he'd be bitten…again.

"Carl Grimes?" called a high pitched voice. He turned towards the sound and found a little girl carrying a clipboard. She had on a white dress with a blue sash around her waist like all the other, what had Toffee and Claudine called them…? Right, like the other benevolent helpers. She was really, really young was the point. His thoughts were a jumbled mess.

"Here." Said Carl almost like he was at school again. He turned red once again putting on his best imitation of a ripe tomato. Everyone was looking at him, in his mind at least. Claudine rolled her eyes behind their dark glasses. The embarrassment was practically palpable.

"Come with me, please." said the girl with her high pitched voice. She had an accent a little like Toffee's but much…thicker was it. Right, Toffee mentioned being from India…Once again he was lost sorting out the sheer amount of information Toffee dumped into his mind.

He was led down a concrete corridor lined with a few painting doors but many posters. These posters proclaimed things about how important hygiene was and why the empire needed more and more babies. He looked away at some of the more graphic posters showing the many ways in which a baby could be created and carried.

"Carl, good, you're here. There's a bath behind that curtain so get scrubbed off and then we'll start." Said Toffee, a white smock over her dress and her hair done up in braids pinned behind her head. She didn't even look away from the other survivor she was working on, an old man with one arm. He had that same haunted look the others had.

Carl walked behind the curtain and quickly stripped himself from his filthy clothes. He hung his hat on the hook provided and left his clothes in a pile on the floor. It felt wrong, somehow, to dirty it. He got into the water quickly, bracing himself for the inevitable chill to his bones. He found the water to be pleasantly warm and perfumed with some flowery smell. There was a bar of soap on the side of the tub and a paper packet which directed him to pour it in. He did so expecting something magic and amazing. Instead, the water turned a milky white and began to sting a little. He made a noise of discomfort.

"That should kill any parasites you have living in your skin or hair." Said Toffee from across the curtain. Carl heard small footsteps enter the room and some low muttering. His ears had been trained well by this world and he managed to pick out that they were debating something called auto-mail versus re-growing a limb. Something deep inside of him began to ache as he thought of one legged Hershel…as he remembered what the governor had done…what his father had let happen.

"Just finish up in there and put on the clothes provided. You old ones will be recycled for textiles." Said Toffee. Carl could hear the opening and closing of drawers followed by some muttering in a langue he couldn't understand.

"My hat." Said Carl as he stared at the last remaining piece of his father he had in this world besides the blood in his veins. He couldn't just let that get recycled. He needed it.

"You want to save that? Why" It's all grotty." asked Toffee from the other side of the curtain. Carl could see her silhouette shifting from one foot to the other as an act of impatience.

"My dad gave it to me." Said Carl. Toffee let out a full body sigh.

"Very well, do hurry up." Said Toffee with a roll of her eyes. She needed him to be done soon because she had other people to see. In a government building she was required to lend her services to all who needed them. Well…technically she was required to do that everywhere regardless of race or color or creed or magical ability but she lived so remotely she rarely saw survivors…and the wards had something to do with that. The government buildings had all sorts of prying eyes and she did not feel like being deported back to what was left of her childhood home. Who would put Fido back together if such an unfortunate event was to occur?

"Ok, Ok." Said Carl feeling bad and even a little scared that he had annoyed her. He knew what she could do and he did not want to piss her off. He felt the pinpricks at the corners of his eyes again…it must have been the soap.

"So, you're a doctor and an alchemist?" asked Carl making light conversation as he scrubbed the accumulated filth from his body.

"I told you before; I mostly know just alchemy and healing. I'm a state research alchemist, not exactly a dog of the military but not a free agent either." Said Toffee going over his mind evaluation. No memory problems…violent tendencies though but wasn't that practically everyone these days.

"Dog of the military?" asked Carl. He heard a quote at school once. _"Something….something…let slip the dogs of war…"_

"A soldier pretty much but not an imperial one. See, the imperial soldiers carry stupefiers and do the jobs that the peace keepers can't do. The peace keepers do the jobs that the local authorities can't take care of. The state alchemists do the most dangerous jobs of all. Mostly hunting down dark wizards actually. I do mostly research and some healing. I, well Cassandra helped, found out how to reanimate dead tissue so it's useable by the living. Oh, and I made Fido too. They decided to call me The Patchwork Alchemist because of, you know, all the patchwork and whatnot. Cassandra, she's a niece by Portia and Hermione, she's older than me and got me into the whole alchemy thing." Said Toffee. She went on about Cassandra and her amazing memory that she got from her mother Hermione and the madness she got from Portia's side of the family. This led to a speculation about the long term effects of inbreeding and the old controversy about two women putting their eggs together to make a baby. By the time Carl was dried and had figured out the wizard style clothes he had been given Toffee was off on a tangent about the time Cassandra had tried to make a chimera for her care of magical creatures final project and someone named Mr. Hagrid, who was apparently half giant, banned her from ever taking the class again.

"So yeah, boy was Cassie cross. I mean, alright, it didn't live for very long and I guess that the creature dying was an auto fail for the project anyway but he didn't have to call her a sin against nature and the winged Cerberus an abomination…or maybe it was the other way around. Either way she left Hogwarts after one semester and started her education at the Arcanium where Galatea studied. I went there too instead of Hogwarts and finished my great work early because of, well you know, the dead." Said Toffee as she sat him up on an examination table and began to fiddle with some syringes.

Carl sat on the high table and let his legs swing idly. It was almost like being back at the doctor's office when he was little. There was even a jar full of small red lollipops. She was now fiddling with something in the cupboard, a slightly annoyed look on her face.

"Honestly, they'll give anyone a healer certification these days! Why the bloody hell would they keep these things so far apart. I am a certified healer by the way, just finished. I think that my sister Portia had something to do with that. We're not really close, her and I, but she does look after all of us. Have you got any siblings?" asked Toffee noting Carl's sharp intake of breath. She felt bad about striking a nerve with him and worried that he might have told her before. Sometimes she didn't listen when other's spoke.

"I have…well I had…a sister, Judith…but she's gone now." Said Carl not making eye contact with her. He hadn't seen Judith's body nor did he need to. She was too small to run. There was always hope that she was on the bus and that the bus was safe…hope was for kids. He was not a kid anymore.

"Terribly sorry, Carl…I have twenty seven brothers and sisters so if you ever want to pretend or anything…the option is opened." Said Toffee. She was not at a loss for words, far from it actually, the problem was that tactful words that were currently in short supply.

"Twenty seven…?" said Carl softly to himself in disbelief. He thought back, to a time before all of this, he saw a show about a family with twenty kids and more on the way. A darker thought entered his mind. He wondered how many of those twenty seven brothers and sisters she had lost. He dared no ask. He didn't have the opportunity to. She had now started on an anecdote about a sister, Priscilla, caught smoking in something called a pleasure garden and her subsequent torching of a very old tree swing.

"Well, back then people of our station didn't smoke tobacco and Silly was always a rebel. I remember I was so, so, so cross with her! I was only five at the time and couldn't do the magic to fix it. It wasn't even the damage that was the problem, she was just so fresh with mum. She's fresh with everyone, really, but now she's an adult so it's not as bad. Dad doesn't care how we are, he just wants us to like him. Quite pathetic really." Said Toffee as she jabbed Carl over and over with different needles. He tried and failed to keep his pain to himself. She was injecting him right into the bite now. The flesh was developing an ugly scar at the moment and was quite sensitive.

"Sorry for talking about my family so much, it must make you feel terrible. I don't mean to do this, I just…well I haven't got much else to talk about. You're not that good for conversation either, unless you're asking for magic tricks…sorry just a little jest at your expense." Said Toffee turning away from him. She separated the used needles and syringes before tossing them into their respective receptacles to be recycled later for the good of empire.

"It's fine…I guess. I don't really have much to talk about. I mean, there's a lot to take in, you know?" said Carl.

"I know what you mean, hop off." said Toffee. He got down from the table and Toffee led him over to a scale.

"It was quite the shock, when this all started. This happened before, a long time ago before our worlds were separated. We used to deal with this as soon as it spring up and that was the end of it. It isn't spread by bite anymore, that's the problem. It was scary and for a time we didn't know how to treat the bites…but then Galatea rediscovered how to treat the bites and kill the dead. She's brilliant." Said Toffee

"We didn't know what to do in the beginning either. They didn't say exactly what was happening in the beginning. They said that it was a kind of rabies, making people crazy, and then they said it was a kind of mad cow disease. After that they said it was the end of the world." Said Carl as he stood on the scale fully dressed in order to make it look like he weighed more. Toffee was glad he was talking now, that was a good sign. She found his company pleasant enough and knew that he would be a good assistant/domestic.

"Stand under the measuring stick, please. Yeah, they didn't tell us much either. At first they said that it was dark wizards, then they said that it was muggles, towards the end they said it was truth's wrath upon us. Then they stopped talking all together and one by one the governments fell. That was worrying but then things got better and well, here we are." Said Toffee noting his height and weight with a frown. Far too short and far too skinny, she'd have to fix that.

"It'll never be like it was before." said Carl softly. He played with the bottom button of his shirt. Clean clothes, truly clean and never worn, reminded him of what he had. The cut and style reminded him of one of those costume dramas his mom liked so much.

"No, but that's why we must celebrate the world's rebirth. We're going to make it better now, wizards and muggles. Just you see." Said Toffee. She pushed him from the room just as another person got into the tub. The water was new. Magic was amazing.

"Take that to the front and then wait for further instruction. Oh, and ask Claudine to get off her bum and help with something." Called Toffee after him. He was clean, he smelled good, and his stomach was full. He had walls around him and the air was free of the stench of death. If he closed his eyes he could just see himself at twelve getting a physical or whatever for school.

Had it really only been two years? It felt like an eternity to him. His life was now divided into two parts, pre and post apocalypse. That's what it was, wasn't it? It was the end of the world. No, not the end. It was just a new beginning. Like the poster said, it was time to celebrate the world's rebirth. That gave him hope, hope that things might get better. He had lost everyone but he had gained something new, this was something he knew. He wondered when the world would take this away from him too, it would, that was something he knew as well.

The road was long, winding, and cruel. Abraham knew that better than anyone. He drove the armored vehicle through Georgia with Rosita at his side; both of them secure in their mission to take Eugene to Washington D.C. and stop this thing.

Their ride was silent save for the roar of the engine. Eugene was in the back reading some thick book that Abraham had never even heard of. Eugene was smart like that, the smartest person Abraham had ever met. He sometimes regarded the other man with awe but most of the time he felt like an exasperated father.

Eugene was a weird guy. It probably had something to do with how smart he was. He must have spent so much time getting to be so smart that he never learned how to be around people. Abraham found himself making excuses for the other man to everyone…back when there was an everyone. Now it was just him and Rosita. An odd little family.

The countryside flew past them in a blur. Rosita kept her eyes on the road in front of them. That was the only thing she could allow herself to focus on. Too much introspection never lead to anything good in this new world. Too much introspection would make her remember everyone she had lost. Her friends, her family, everyone she had ever come into contact with.

She allowed herself a glance in the back at Eugene. She didn't much like the man and if this was the old world she would never have spared him a second glance. He was awkward and unattractive and he knew it, which made it a little better she supposed. These things, attractiveness and social graces, didn't matter much in the new world. He couldn't run or fight. Those were the things that mattered.

It didn't matter. She didn't want to be with him like that. She was with Abraham. She loved Abraham. All that mattered was that she and Abraham got Eugene to D.C. in one piece so he could reverse all that had happened. She couldn't allow herself to think about that either. No, all that mattered was getting him there. Whatever would be, would be. The future was not hers to see.

Eugene was a man who was quickly losing him nerve. They had been on the road since almost the beginning and were almost halfway to Washington D.C. and what might have been left there. He knew, logically, that if there was anything left it would have been there. They had detoured and detoured and detoured since the beginning but now they were almost halfway there…and he didn't know what they'd find. If there was anything left it would be in Washington. That was a big if, he figured, the longer he spent on the road. The world might have taken what was left from this world.

He didn't know how they would react when this all got out in the open. They should have gone there on their own, without his lies to motivate them. Washington was their best bet for just about anything. People were often strange and alien, operating illogically. He had never been able to understand them, the adults anyway. He understood books, books and kids. Kids were easy once you read enough about them. That's why he became a teacher.

As they tore down the road, the wind whipping their hair and the scenery rushing by in a green blur they came upon some people arguing in the road. Abraham and Rosita made eye contact, a silent agreement passing between them. They would pick those people up. They needed more people to protect Eugene. They would buy those people more time. They were still good people.

Now the group was fighting the dead. They pulled over to help.

Days…it had been days since the prison fell. Tyreese had not seen anything of his sister or the rest of the group. He had been out here for three days with the girls…and everyone was hungry. Judith was the most vocal about this fact. They were out of formula and had been feeding her powdered milk, something which did not agree with her. Maybe it was time to get her into mashed foods…he couldn't remember how old Sasha was when their mother had weaned her. He wished he remembered.

"Tyreese, make her be quiet!" implored Mika as her eyes scanned the woods for danger. She had never been out here like this. She had spent the apocalypse holed up in Woodbury and then she had gone to live in the prison. She knew things were bad it was now dawning on her just how bad.

"I'm trying." Said Tryeese trying to be calm. He was the adult and nothing good would come of him losing his head. He almost resented them, almost. They were too small to defend themselves physically and had trouble with guns at their size as well. Having them around was almost like ringing the dinner bell. He hated himself when he thought like this. What was he becoming?

"They'll hear her!" said Lizzie taking Judith from his arms with strength he did not know that she possessed. She hated Judith in times like these. She was going to get them eaten, or have bad people find them. If only Carol was there, she'd know what to do to shut Judith up.

"Lizzie, you're making it worse." Said Mika as Lizzie bounced Judith up and down. Lizzie was about to retort when a scream tore through the air.

"Stay there, I'm going to go help." Said Tyreese as another scream pierced the air. He had to help; he was still that kind of person. He was still a human being God damn it! The girls would be alright on their own for a few moments. They had defended him back at the prison just fine.

"Don't go! Don't leave us!" cried Mica as yet another scream ripped into her ears. She didn't want that other person to die but she didn't want them to die either. If she had it her way nobody would die anymore.

"We'll be fine. Here, tuck your shirt behind your knife." Said Lizzie with a calmness and maturity that Tyreese had never heard from a girl her age. Lizzie knew that more people in their group would make them stronger. They needed to be stronger if they wanted to survive and find a new place.

"No, stay here!" implored Mica. She received a glare from her older sister and a fussy noise from Judith. Even Judith was against her.

"We have to be strong. Carol would want us to be strong." Said Lizzie. Tyreese pushed the girls so that they stood back to back. Enough time had been wasted.

"Here, now you can see in both directions. If anything happens, run to the main road. I'll come to find you." Said Tyreese as he went to the source of the screams. He was too late and a part of him cursed Mica for costing these people their lives. The good part of him, the part that the world was trying to destroy, hated him for that.

He was told of a place called Terminus where there was a sanctuary for people, a sanctuary from all of this. It gave him hope. There must have been other places like the prison. He returned to the space where he had left the girls and found it unoccupied. Screams, the girls' screams, rang through the forest as well as Judith's cries. His heat stopped for a terrified second before pumping into overdrive. He tore through the trees with speed that he didn't know he had.

He didn't hear them screaming anymore. The silence was even worse than the noise. He followed their footprints through the foliage, almost tripping over a dead walker. There was another, and then another. They had all been stabbed through the head. He burst through the foliage like some caricature of a jack in the box to find the girls safe and sound.

"Tyreese, it's going to be OK now." Said Mica. He looked over each girl. There wasn't a scratch on either of them. Even Judith had stopped fussing.

"Look who we found." Said Lizzie. She gestured behind them and there stood Carol. He didn't know what to do so he went with his instincts. He scooped her up into an all-encompassing hug. Someone had survived.

In her younger, pre end of the world days Beth would have found this romantic. She was roaming the countryside with Daryl Dixon. He was an attractive man, she wouldn't lie about that, but this was not a good situation at all. The prison had fallen, her home had fallen. She was once again a nomad, wandering through the country homeless and hopeless. The only difference between now and last winter was that now everyone but Daryl Dixon was dead.

Her father had gotten his head chopped off with a sword. She had seen it and couldn't un-see it. He had gone out smiling, at what she didn't know. Maybe he knew that in his death he would be free. She had wanted to free herself from this world, once. She had been persuaded to keep going. For what reason she did not know.

Why was she out there? Why was she trying? What was she hoping to accomplish? Was she surviving just to survive? To delay her inevitable death for another day? There was still so much she had never done. There was still so much she would never do.

She would never get married. She would never go to college. She would never travel the world or go sky diving or get a job or anything. She had never known how much these things meant to her until they were gone. There were so many lost chances, lost opportunities, lost everything. There was so much she would never do and so much she had never done.

She had never had sex before. She had never smoked a cigarette before. She had never tried any kind of substance before, not even a drop of alcohol. She was eighteen years old and had never even had her first drink. Maggie always said that when the time was right she'd take Beth out for her first drink. Jimmy always said that when the time was right they'd have their first time. Both of those people were now dead.

She and Daryl were sitting in front of the fire she had lit. With the darkness around them it she could pretend that they were the only two people in the world. She could close her eyes and pretend that this was some great, romantic adventure. She and Darryl living wild and free in the wilderness like the first two people in the world.

She held her old diary in her hands. Even as the Governor tore down the fences she was still thinking like some silly child. She held on, she literally, held on to her childish hopes and dreams. She stared down at this book, this link to her past. The past was in the past. There was only the eternal now. Beth Green and Daryl Dixon in the eternal now.

They could carve out a life for each other in this world. Find a house, put up some fences, grow some food, and go on surviving. They could be together, start a life, have a baby, watch it die. It could watch them die. He could watch her die. The air was thick with death.

She didn't even like him that much. He was nice enough, a good provider, but very stand offish and at least ten years older than her. She studied his face trying to get some clue from it as to how he was doing. How did he feel? Was he dwelling on this in the same way that she was?

It was a cold night. She tore a page from her diary. The fire was starting to die. She fed the fire with her childish dreams. They wouldn't keep her alive.


	4. We're Wizards

A/N: Sorry about the lack of page breaks but FFN's formatting doesn't allow for them. If anyone's confused I'm sorry about that but questions will be answered the longer this goes on.

This takes place in the same universe as my other story Harry James Pettigrew. I figured people liked that story, I like that story, people like The Walking Dead, I like the Waling Dead, so then people must like them together. I hope that this isn't a chocolate cheeseburger thing.

Recap: This takes place after the prison falls. Carl runs away, gets bit, and two witches find him. Toffee Pettigrew is a research alchemist/ part time healer and Claudine is her cousin who helps her out. Right now Toffee keeps Carl around because she needs help and pleasant company. They're in D.C. where the wizard government that took over is. Rick, Michonne, Glenn, and Tara are together now and looking for Maggie and Carl. Maggie, Bob, and Sasha are their own group looking for Glenn. Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita are on their way to D.C. Tyreese and the girls are now reunited with Carol. Daryl and Beth are living nomadically in the countryside looking for any of their friends from the prison.

Please review, all feedback is welcome here. Constrictive criticism is best.

Carl had been in D.C. for some days now working with Toffee and Claudine. How long, he wasn't sure. There were no windows in this place, just wooden frames with landscape paintings in them displaying scenes from the rolling planes of the Midwest to the deepest jungles of the Amazon. There were clocks but Carl was ashamed to admit that he didn't really look at them. Time didn't have much meaning for him now anyway.

For Toffee, he noticed, it seemed to dictate her life. She went back and forth from her house to the survivor processing center. She had, as she put it, very import work to do. She was always glancing at the watch she kept on a chain in the pocket of her dress. The time would either bring a smile to her face or a scowl accompanied by the occasional foreign word which Carl assumed was some form of profanity.

For Claudine, he noticed, time was meaningless. She performed the tasks asked of her when she got around to them and always with an accompanied profanity. Her profanity was in English and quite vulgar by Carl's standards once he learned what these words meant. Work was dog licking bullocks; cleaning was quim buggering shite; and any interactions with the survivors involved taking Merlin's name in vain.

Carl said nothing when he was asked to help out. He worked directly under Toffee caring for the survivors that came into the center. Some came in mass numbers through the front gate lead by homesteading wizards. Others came by portkey with what Toffee called peacekeepers, essentially police officers of the lowest rank. Or maybe soldiers. From what he could gather the new government didn't know any sort of difference between the two.

He was well fed, well cared for, and clean. He knew that he should have wanted for nothing. He had a new group now and a job. This was his life. He had to keep moving forward like when his mother died. He did his job, ate his meals with Toffee and Claudine, and slept under a roof somewhere where the dead couldn't get to him. For some days he had grown accustomed to this. For some days this was all he wanted.

He tried to want not for his old friends and family. Whenever he found himself missing his father, his sister, any of them really he simply put himself to some task and had Toffee drown out his thoughts with her never ending anecdotes. She told him about her family, which somewhat hurt, her school, which worked well, and her job, which confused him with an endless series of terms he did not know. To further distract himself in his meager free time he looked up those terms and found himself even more confused.

It was in this state of confusion, sitting on his cot with a book about the civil war involving some guy named Tom, he was found by Toffee.

"We're going home so pack up your spare clothes so c'mon, before more survivors show up." said Toffee walking past him to her cot. Underneath she had a trunk which she shrunk down and put in the bad at her side.

"What?" asked Carl, his eyes torn from a particularly vivid illustration of the snake man after he was resurrected. He couldn't have heard that right. He was used to this place. He was safe in this place.

"You, me, my home." said Toffee shaking him by the shoulders. Each word was enunciated carefully as if she was talking to one of her younger siblings. A much younger sibling.

"But people still need help." Said Carl. There was an endless parade of them coming, being processed, and then sent out to 'serve the empire' as Toffee called it.

"You think I don't know that, Carl Grimes? I've got things to do at home and I need help. Claudine's already gone home to her family anyway so I need you more than ever." Said Toffee keeping herself in check. She was a witch and as much of an almost friend this boy was she could still just force him to come with at wand point. She wanted to do this but she didn't as it would run counter to the world she was an agent of creating.

"I want to stay and help people, they need us. Besides, it's safe here. There's food, water, shelter, and none of the walkers can get it." Said Carl. How could she be like this? People needed her; they needed what she could do with her magic. She couldn't just run away from all this and let the people suffer.

"I'm not the only alchemist in existence, you know. There's loads more of us. None quite as brilliant as me, of course, but there are other hands that can help." said Toffee. She wanted to yell and scream and force him to come with but she didn't. She was a grown up lady now and she had to behave as such.

"Someone else is coming to replace you?" asked Carl. Well, that made it better. Some other witch or wizard could come and treat the bites, attach fake limbs, even bring people back from the brink of death.

"I'd imagine so, yeah. Any survivors we find we've got to bring to be processed. That's actually why I go so deep into the wild zone when I need to forage for parts, less people and the ones I do find I usually just send with whoever's helping me. Not you though, you're not nearly as mad as the rest of them and you're my age. Not too many of you my age just roaming around, alive that is." Said Toffee as she began to ramble, her thoughts coming out before she could review them.

"So, wait, we can come back and help, right?" said Carl getting up and putting his newly repaired hat on his head. If they were coming back at some point then that was better. They weren't abandoning people.

"Yeah, sure, let's go already." Said Toffee grabbing his hand before he could say anything. Honestly, were all muggles like this? She wasn't used to them yet.

Carl allowed himself to be dragged down the endless maze of hallways until they got to the portkey room. He mentally said goodbye to this place with its regular meals, temperature controlled rooms, and clean smell. All luxuries he had left behind in the old world. There was a feel of uncertainty as he watched Toffee dig through her bag. He had gone with a stranger to this place and now he was going to her home.

He thought she was trustworthy and so far she had so been. She was not violent or short with him and had saved her life at risk to herself; something she reminded him of more than was necessary. She was not a complete stranger to him, he knew about her life and what she did. Still, she was a new person. New people weren't always bad. The people from Woodbury, that ones that hadn't gone with the Governor, were just fine. She was his age and hadn't done anything to him. She was safe.

"Found it!" said Toffee waving the portkey above her head like she had found the Holy Grail.

"Is this gonna feel like before?" asked Carl remembering the last time he had traveled by portkey.

"Most likely. Of course it'll be less surprising now that you know what to expect. Now, onwards to Georgia!" said Toffee grabbing his hand and putting it on what she thought was the portkey.

"Toffee…it's not doing anything." said Carl. Toffee wanted to kick him in the shin so that was what she did. Screw being a grown up lady.

"Well spotted, want to tell me your shin hurts next?" muttered Toffee through gritted teeth as she dug through the rubbish in her bag. She really needed to clean this thing out. She could have sworn she felt an old school pin in there.

"Sorry." Said Carl. It didn't hurt that bad. She probably just did that playfully. He was still going to stay with her. Anything was better than going back out there.

"Don't go about saying unconstructive shite like that, yeah?" said Toffee as she held what she thought was the real portkey out with her wand. The workload was getting to her, she should have noticed that the old glove wasn't a portkey when it didn't take her away when she touched it.

"That looks like the home portkey from back when you and Claudine found me…" said Carl trying to be helpful. She looked at him and gave her best smile. There was a good helper.

"Good show, now grab on and let's get out of this mad house." Said Toffee still balancing the portkey on the end of her wand. On three they both grabbed the portkey and off then went. This time was not any easier on Carl than the last.

He was in a house now. The floor under his feet was plush. The walls around him were crowded with photographs. Through the gaps he could see the floral patterned wallpaper. The air smelled oppressively of lavender, it hung thick in the air.

"Damn it, Claudine!" said Toffee drawing her sleeve to her face. She gave a wave of her wand and the air was cleared.

"Sorry about that, I guess Claudine made a stopover on her way home. Honestly, I don't understand her sometimes. Pure maliciousness I gather, really. She's always been a little unpleasant, Claudine. When we were young she'd pour rose water into people's rugs whenever they displeased her. According to her we all stink…are you listening?" asked Toffee. She got the distinct impression that his attention was elsewhere and it upset her. She would not be ignored.

"No, I'm listening. You were talking about how Claudine does bad stuff." Said Carl as he stared at the photographs adorning the wall. Some were in color but most were in black and white. Every photograph was moving. Magic was awesome.

"Yeah, I hear her mother was an awful child. She…well I'm not really sure what exactly she does nowadays. She's not been seen in public since the world went to shite." Said Toffee taking a place at Carl's side as he inspected the snapshots of her life.

"The pictures move." Said Carl as he watched a group of kids hold hands and skip in a circle. What else could he say? He had never seen anything like this before. To him these pictures were a window not only into a world of magic but also into a much safer, better, past.

"Yeah, I'm not sure how though. I'm not a photographer or anything. Actually, my oldest sister Portia took that one. See, that's me there with the big bow. Next to me with the bushy hair is Cassandra, before she got heavy into the alchemy thing." Said Toffee

"Who's that?" asked Carl pointing to another picture. This one was of a boy in a Hogwarts uniform, his blonde hair kept primly in place and a grin plastered across his face.

"That's my nephew, Pietro. He's actually older than me so don't be surprised when you meet him. I suspect he'll be coming to visit if he and Claudine have another row. Honestly, they were the best of friends but now they can't spend more than a few weeks together. Older people are strange." Said Toffee

"Who are they?" asked Carl his eyes finding a picture of two older people. This one was in color. The man was short, about as short as Carl. He had beady eyes and thin blonde hair. The woman next to him was heavily pregnant and did not look happy about it. The man looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Those are my parents. They don't visit me much, they mostly spend time with Priscilla up north. It's fine though, they know how busy I am with my work." Said Toffee

"How…how many people in your family did you lose?" said Carl quickly regretting asking this deeply personal question. He just wanted to know that she had lost somebody, anybody. He just wanted it to be fair. The bad part of him wanted this to be fair.

"Pre-war I lost a little brother, the first Marzipan, at a Quiddich match. He got away from mum and dad and Paulette, our nanny. Portia was there too but she had her own children to look after and she didn't trust nannies. Well at some point the first Marzipan got to the very top of the pitch and later attempted to scale the sides. He fell to his death. Poor boy…" said Toffee. She had been very small then and had spent that match chewing up gummy brooms and trying to stick them in people's hair.

"What about after?" asked Carl

"After? Well…I've not lost anyone after. There were bites and a few of us have fake limbs but everyone's alive." Said Toffee turned on her heel and motioning for Carl to follow her. He did.

"That's good, I guess." Said Carl a little too quickly as Toffee led him from the sitting room and down the hall. They reached some stairs and started to descend. Toffee looked troubled by something.

"This trouble has touched us all, some more than others. For this I apologize." Said Toffee unlocking a heavy door, looking everywhere but at Carl. She felt like there was a led weight in her stomach, making him feel terrible and all.

"You don't have to apologize." Said Carl as Toffee kicked the door opened. He wasn't scared, he was fascinated. Who knew what kind of amazingly magical things laid on the other side of that door.

"I want to." Said Toffee putting her hand on his shoulder. The stay like this for an uncomfortable minute. Carl was at a loss for what to say, he searched his mind for another conversation topic.

"So…what's in there?" asked Carl. The room was completely dark for the basement had no windows. The musty smell of a basement hung in the air as well as a slight burning smell and the general stench of death that hung everywhere in this world. He missed the lavender.

"Close your eyes." Said Toffee. When Carl didn't immediately comply Toffee covered his eyes with her hands.

"What's going on?" asked Carl now feeling the ghost of nervousness. He wasn't truly scared, no, because magic couldn't be anything but wonderful. Magic saved his life and could cure the bite of a walker. Magic was amazing. No, he was feeling the ghost of that unpleasant feeling that kept him alive through the apacolyse.

"Prepare yourself, Carl Grimes, for my…laboratory!" Said Toffee pushing him through the door and into the inky blackness of her lab.

"I can't see anything?" said Carl which was largely true. There was some low glowing but its light didn't extend very far. It was unnatural.

"Oh, sorry." Said Toffee. She got out her wand and gave it a wave and the candles on the wall ignited to life.

"Wow…" said Carl as he took in her modest alchemy/potions/healing lab. The room was completely made of stone. The wooden tables held cauldrons, some simmering and some dormant. On the shelves there were jars filled with potions ingredients and human organs. The floor was crowded with sealed barrels which Carl would soon become well acquainted with.

"Really? Um, I mean, I know." Said Toffee taking an apron and sleeve covers from the hook on the wall. She got another set from the drawer under the shelf. She tossed them over to Carl who was staring intently at a shimmering cauldron of swelling solution.

"Oi, c'mon we got orders to fill." Said Toffee after Carl stared at her for an uncomfortable second. Honestly, the world did not stop even for a moment…unless Toffee wanted to.

"Right." Said Carl. He wanted to just stare at everything some more. He wanted to know what was in these cauldrons, what was in the jars, what they were doing. He wanted to know everything that there was to know about magic. He wanted to use magic to help people.

"You see this barrel?" asked Toffee pointing to the tall barrel next to her. Carl nodded.

"Good, you haven't gone blind from the bite cure." Said Toffee

"What?!" gasped out Carl. Toffee giggled.

"Don't worry, I did it right." Said Toffee. Carl didn't laugh, it wasn't funny,

"So, I'm not gonna go blind?" said Carl blinking his eyes rapidly. He mentally reviewed the past few days and, as far as he remembered, his vision had been fine.

"Yeah, I'm sure. If I had done it wrong you'd be blind by now. So, we've established the fact that you can see. Now, you do know how to use a knife properly, yes?" Said Toffee getting back to the matter at hand. There was important work to be done that she was too important to do.

"Yeah, I do." said Carl. Toffee smiled and clapped her hands together before unsealing the barrel.

"Good, now these are preserved Cornish pixies I raised myself. Skin them, debone them, and eviscerate them. I need all the parts in separate sealed jars. After you finish the barrel or I have something else for you to do, whichever comes first, you'll do something else." Said Toffee. She didn't wait for his reply before she got to work at a cauldron. Lousy new government barely paid her enough to keep herself in ingredients.

They worked together in what Toffee considered companionable silence. The laboratory was filled with the sounds of Carl's knife against the cutting board and the simmering that emanated from the cauldron Toffee was working on. The silence agreed with Toffee, she needed to concentrate on what she was doing. Beadle Bard needed swelling solution and babbling beverage for some party he was throwing for the return of Celeste from the Imperial City or some other reason. Honestly, she didn't much care what her big brother was up to so long as he paid her.

Carl considered this to be an awkward silence. He was tired of quiet people. The people he helped back in D.C. were so very, very quiet. He didn't much care for the quiet, the quiet made him think. When he thought he remembered what once was. He not only remembered his time in the prison but also the world before all of this. He didn't like to think about what once was so he spoke when it was obvious that Toffee wouldn't.

"So…how long have you lived here?" asked Carl uncertainly. He racked his mind for something to say and this was what came out. Toffee's back was turned to him and he didn't see the sour expression that crossed her face. She quickly thought back to all which she knew about the psychology of the survivors. They often were silent or overly talkative to ward off the shell shock.

"Oh, almost a year now. At first I was placed in a research laboratory with some older alchemists but I was the only one selected to go to this part of the states. The higher ups said that I did my best work on my own without other people to distract me. I even got to take Fido with me." Said Toffee conveniently leaving out the part where she had to have Cassandra put in the good word for her.

"Wow, you, uh, you must be really important then." said Carl talking just to keep the conversation going. He didn't want to talk about families or anything like that anymore so the best course of action would be to get her talking about her job.

"Not to stir my own caldron but I suppose I am. Claudine says that I got this job through nepotism but she's always been jealous of everybody. I love her dearly, as I do all my cousins, but she's been so sour lately. Jealous people are the absolute worst." Said Toffee noting how unhappy Carl looked. He noticed Toffee staring at him and turned away from her. He then looked around the room. There was a large fireplace in the opposite side of the room. On its mantle were bits and bobbles of possible magical value. Above the fireplace was a large yellow and black banner bearing a crest with a badger on it.

"You like that? That's my old house, dormitory, in school, Hufflepuff." Said Toffee. Carl tried to stifle a laugh but failed.

"Hufflepuff?" gasped out Carl. That sounded more like a bad cereal than a school dorm. Toffee narrowed her eyes. Even muggles had no respect for the house of Helga Hufflepuff.

"You think there's something funny about Hufflepuff house do you?" asked Toffee with her arms crossed over her chest. She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like an angry child. She had to maintain some sort of dignity in this.

"Sorry, the name's just really funny." Said Carl. Alright, Toffee relented. Yes, it was a funny name, she told herself. He meant her no disrespect by it.

"Yeah, it is, I'll give you that much. Of course I didn't do much time at Hogwarts. My education was better achieved at the Arcanium. Hogwarts just didn't recognize my brilliance." Said Toffee very blatantly stirring her own cauldron.

"Well, they should have." Said Carl. In his experience it was good to make the people in charge feel good. The Woodbury people used to do that a lot with his dad…calling him Sheriff…always saying how great he was…

"I know, right? Honestly, the entire school wet downhill when Potter started teaching there and that was before he was declared an enemy of the state. I hear it's pretty good now even if they have to let the little babies in. I'm not bitter over what it's become or anything, I just sometimes wish it was…well everything's better now. We're reached the new age of majority." Said Toffee ending her speech with a little laugh.

They worked for some time together, once again in silence. There was some time when they spoke but Toffee was, for once, not in the mood to converse. While Carl used her prattling on to drown out the memories of the past, in Toffee he brought them to the surface. She thought back to a time when some things were better, the dead stayed dead and all that, but now in the present some things were most definitely better. There was no more statute of secrecy in place, her country had overtaken the Ministry of Magic, and she was doing some good in this world. She was doing what her father had created her to do. She was Toffee Pettigrew, alchemist, and life was now good.

Carl Grimes was inclined to agree.

Beth and Daryl were on the road for some days now. The road was unforgiving. The road did not care if they were cold, tired, hungry, or anything else. The road only cared that they died at some point. It most certainly seemed like that to Beth. They not only had to worry about the dead but also the living and just plain dying of exposure. They continued with their journey, her and Daryl, even though they had no idea where they were going. It seemed to her that they just walked for hours in one direction before running in another. She wondered if this was all that there was to life now, just surviving. Sometimes she wondered if anyone had survived the attack on the prison. If they did they were probably dead by now.

She had tried playing the could've game before. Once, around a fire before sunrise she had begged Daryl to track the people from the prison. She knew he was a tracker and therefore he must have been able to find at least one person. He refused. He had refused silently, as if what she said was not even worth discussing. As if she was just some silly little girl.

She had tried to show him. She knew that if he did not want to track then she would have to. She wanted to have faith, she needed to have faith. Faith would keep them alive. Daryl was right, faith didn't do shit for her father. God, she was such a child. She was such a silly little girl.

What had her faith gotten her? Almost bit. She had found some tracks and insisted that she and Daryl follow them. She insisted even after Daryl told her that whoever had made them was alive four or five hours ago. She should have listened. All that she had found were some berries and picked over bones. Then she cried for a few moments, thick tears and heavy racking sobs. Daryl didn't reach out and comfort her, he didn't offer her any sort of reprieve from what she felt. She stopped after those few moments which may have actually been minutes; she didn't care anymore. She pulled herself together and went on surviving.

Contrary to what Beth thought Daryl did have some goal in mind while they were on their travels. He knew that logistically someone must have survived the attack on the prison. Whether or not they were still alive was another matter entirely. Still, some part of him hoped and that was the part of him that kept on surviving. He wasn't looking in the traditional sense; he was just hoping to run into someone he once knew.

So they continued onto the road, that endless road. Sometimes they left the road and went through the trees. It was under that green canopy that they would become their true selves. Daryl was the hunter and Beth was his gathering companion. She found food that was good to eat, nuts and berries, while he brought back good meat. She would make the fire for them to cook on and set up the campsite while he was out there, risking his life, for her.

Daryl sometimes thought of Beth as an anchor. She was the anchor, he was the boat, or maybe the man on the boat, and the world was the ocean. It wasn't so far off with the lack of food and drinkable water. She was someone who he had to protect because, well, she was the only friend he really had left. Were they even friends? He didn't know. She was another human being who he could talk to and he knew he needed that to be sane.

He saw that on TV once, back in the old days. People in solitary confinement would lose their minds. He supposed that was as good a reason to keep her around as any. He liked being sane. Lord knew that this world did whatever it could to make him crazy. Hell, maybe he was crazy for keeping her around. Where had she gotten him? Stuck in the trunk of a car while a herd passed them, that's where. What would Merle say if he were here now? Nothing good.

"_Quite your whining, Darylina."_

"_Got yourself and girl and you don't even know what to do with her?"_

"_Man, look at you, all domesticated."_

"_Guess you traded up from that grey haired-"_

"_You sure you're not a fag, if I had a pretty little girl like that-"_

"Shut up, Merle." Muttered Daryl to himself. He was currently in the trunk of a car; the heard had past them not long ago. Now was the time for sleep but for him it would not come. Beth's eyes were closed, she must have been sleeping. He didn't want to disturb her.

Daryl was talking in his sleep. Beth didn't want to wake him; the herd had kept them up all night. It was best to be on guard when things like that happened. She hoped that she would never get to the point at which she could sleep through a heard. Or maybe she did. Who knew? Who cared?

She felt it settling over her, the apathy. She didn't care. She was apathetic about apathy. Or maybe she did care. Maybe now she could…she didn't know….maybe now she could do the things she always wanted to do. Maybe she could live like the last woman on earth. She could dance naked through the church, drive donuts in the middle of Atlanta, go swimming in an aquarium…

But she wasn't the last woman on earth. She was here, with Daryl. Besides, there were other people she had to watch out for too. She could still dance naked in a church but she didn't really want to do that. No, what she wanted was her first drink. She had a lot of firsts to get through and that was going to be one of them. Yes, she had a purpose now. She wasn't just going to lie down and cry, cry like a little girl. She didn't get to do that anymore.

She was moving now, she must have been awake. She needed sleep. People got stupid when they were tired, stupid and crazy. Shane pretty much lost it up until the end and he was doing the night watch and helping out during the day. Shane must not have been too bright or sane up to that point…it was kind of a chicken egg thing he supposed.

There were times when he played the could've game and its ugly cousin the what if game. He could've shot the Governor when he had the chance. What if he had let Carl take that shot? He could have just robbed the Atlanta group with Merle like they had originally planned. What if they had never found that group in the first place? Hell, he could've died a thousand times over already. What if he did? If he did the girl laying with him would die too. He had to keep going for her sake.

"Oi, come on you lot! At the double now!" called a voice from outside the car. He tense up and reached for his bow. Beth was most definitely awake now and held her knife in her hands. He could hear the clip clop of horses hooves and the turning of cart wheels. He didn't know if these people were friendly and he didn't much care. Judging by what he had heard these weren't any people he knew.

"Daddy, it's hot and I'm tired. Can't we rest?" called a girl's voice. The cart was stopped now; it was stopped very near him and Beth. He was ready to spring out and get at least a few shots off before they took off into the forest.

"No rest now, dearest, we've got to get these people to the agro-plantation." Said the man. Beth was intrigued and listened as best she could. She had never heard an accent like that in Georgia. They sounded British almost. What were people like that doing here?

"But we're tired. Aren't we tired?" called the girl too loudly for either Daryl or Beth's liking. Didn't she know she'd only draw more of the dead over.

"We're fine." Came a more timid voice. An American voice. Beth felt the apathy melt away from her. These people may have been strangers but they sounded friendly enough, and very foreign, which she didn't know what to make of. They had a group of people, a horse, and a cart. They must have come from a community. Maybe they knew what happened to everyone.

"See Charlotte, they're fine. Now don't you dare stop that cart again." Said the man. Daryl now counted two horses, one cart, over three people, and no regard for the noise level. The horses were a good sign and the number of people. The accents on the other hand made him nervous. What were people like that doing all the way over here?

"Well I have to go to the loo and now you're made me say it out loud in front of all these people. Not even colonials are so crass as to find such things acceptable." Said the girl, presumably Charlotte. The man gave a sigh.

"Always the little lady, aren't you. Fine, into the forest with you…but stay where I can see you." Said the man. The cart gave a creak before the sound of shoes on the road could be heard. Beth silently positioned herself to where she could see out of the trunk.

"Daddy!" said the girl before making exaggerated gagging sounds. Beth looked out the crack in the trunk. The girl ran past. Her brown hair was in a long braid and her dress looked like something out of little house on the prairie.

"You know what I mean." Said the man. Paper could be hard rustling and a bottle could be heard opening.

"You lot can eat too, there's plenty of food in the beaded bag." Said the man. The cart gave a few more noises. Daryl counted by ear at least five people in it, maybe more but not many more. He thought about making himself known. On the one hand they would have a much better chance of survival if they joined a more prosperous group but on the other hand he still didn't know if these people were friendly. They could also have been the type to shoot first and ask questions later.

Beth was practically salivating at the idea of plenty of food. That was what it came down to again, didn't it? Food, always food. It was like when they spent that winter on the run before they found the prison. These people sounded alright, they had other survivors with them, and it seemed like they were pretty prosperous. Wait, survivors? Why did they call their group members survivors?

Daryl was latched onto that word as well. By using the word survivor these people implied that they were separate from the rest of their group. How? And how did they have plenty of food? And what did they mean by processed? A scream and some moans cut through his thoughts.

"Bombarda! Bombarda! Daddy, they're coming!" screamed the girl. Explosions could be heard over her screaming. What was she doing, setting off bombs?

"Charlotte! You're just attracting more! Immobulous! Immobulous!" screamed the man. The people in the cart could be heard panicking.

"Get your weapons but stay there!" screamed the man. Beth and Daryl, both on the same page for once, had had enough of this. They sprang from the trunk, crossbow and knife in hand, to help out. The man and the girl seemed more surprised by them than the rapidly multiplying walkers.

"Oi, how long have you lot been there?" called the man, sword in one hand and stick in the other. The girl was waving a stick around too and pointing it at the walkers.

"Bombarda!" called the girl. A force seemed to push the walker back until it broke into pieces. The people in the cart also had swords and even a few long bows but it didn't look like they knew how to use them. Daryl and Beth helped out as best as they could but a woman got bit.

"No! No!" cried Beth as she sank to her knees. Well, it was back to crying like a little girl she supposed. She cried not for the woman but for everyone who had ever died so far.

"I'm really sorry about this." Said Daryl as he prepared to show the woman mercy. The man and the girl looked at him horrified.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" screamed the girl pointing her stick at him. The man rushed to her side and pulled some things from his satchel.

"She got bit, she's gonna turn!" said Daryl not just angry at this girl but angry at Beth, the walkers, and just about everything else that bothered him in this world.

"Expelliarmus!" called the girl with her stick still pointed towards him. His cross bow went flying from his hands. He stared at the girl and the stick. He contemplated running, just taking Beth and running, but what he heard next took away all thoughts of doing such things.

"Honestly, 'tis only a bite. It's not like she's going to die." Said the man as he injected something into the woman's arm.

"What the hell are you people?" asked Daryl staring at them with a mixture of awe and fear. If Beth was in a better state of mind she would have found it comical.

"We're wizards."


End file.
